


lakeside view

by regionals



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Drabble, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 07:26:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15769383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regionals/pseuds/regionals
Summary: You're twenty three and stumbling into the shitty double wide you rent with your best friend, strung out and knocking into the wall next to the door as you struggle to get your shoes off. You're sweaty and hot and you don't think your tinnitus has ever been so obnoxiously loud before.You strip out of your clothes on your way to one of the bedrooms, and you're not surprised when you find yourself crawling into bed next to Josh, who just scoots over and lets you cuddle on up to him. You only ever hold onto him like this when you're high. You're too scared to do it any other time.





	lakeside view

**Author's Note:**

> i have a longer fic coming very shortly but,,, have this to tide yall over  
> its just like a shitty drabble and it was written out of order so im sorry if theres any weird continuity errors lol  
> i rearranged it to be in chronological order bc its easier to read/follow that way i guess  
> anyways i was in a MOOD when i wrote most of this lmfao sorry
> 
> stream transcendental youth by the mountain goats on spotify xx

You're sixteen when you meet Josh. At sixteen you're already fucked up and corrupted by the religion your parents shove down your throat. At sixteen Josh is innocent and he's so loving and kind and the second you lay eyes on him you feel something inside of you tugging you towards him, forcing you to stick your hand out and introduce yourself. "Hey, man. I'm Tyler."

He smiles at you, something so blinding and beautiful, making your insides feel like molten gold, so pretty and warm, and introduces himself right back. "I'm Josh! It's so nice to meet you." He even gives you a quick little bro hug, and that small hug is probably the best goddamn hug of your life at that point.

☾☉☽

You're twenty three and stumbling into the shitty double wide you rent with your best friend, strung out and knocking into the wall next to the door as you struggle to get your shoes off. You're sweaty and hot and you don't think your tinnitus has ever been so obnoxiously _loud_ before. It's always there, a subtle ringing in the background, but it always gets worse when you're high like this.

You strip out of your clothes on your way to one of the bedrooms, and you're not surprised when you find yourself crawling into bed next to Josh, who just groans, and mutters, "Jesus, _Tyler,"_ before scooting over and letting you cuddle on up to him. You only ever hold onto him like this when you're high. You're too scared to do it any other time.

☾☉☽

This isn't a conversation you want to be having. You're lying on the linoleum in your kitchen, since it's cold. It's the only thing keeping you from overheating right now. Josh is standing above you, and you struggle to look up at him. Your eyes are unfocused and they keep crossing a little bit since your lazy eye that you had as a kid never got quite better.

You feel like vomiting but he says, "You need to get some help," anyways. You're twenty five and your entire fucking body _aches,_ and hours later when you find it in yourself to drag yourself off of the floor, you have about two seconds to bask in being upright before you're leaning over the sink in your kitchen, and emptying your guts into it.

Josh takes care of you that day. He lets you lay on him while you cry and while you sweat yourself through your hangover, and he runs his fingers through your hair while the two of you watch shitty TV shows together. He tells you that you're gonna be alright and for some reason, when he's the one saying it, you actually sort of believe him.

☾☉☽

You're in full-tilt withdrawals the first time Josh tells you he loves you.

You can't sleep for shit, but right now, you're teetering on the edge of consciousness and unconsciousness, with your face pressed into his neck. Every sensation against your body is too much and you're trying to just focus on the scent of his aftershave when he just quietly says, "I love you."

It's not like he hasn't ever said that to you before. He says it all the fucking time. It's different this time, though. The way he said it--it was almost as if you weren't supposed to hear. You still mumble out a shaky, "You too," against his neck as you're falling into a fitful bout of sleep, only to wake up a few hours later to dry heave.

☾☉☽

You're twenty five and you've been clean for four months when you're finally able to say, "I'm gay," out loud. It's a thought that's been in the back of your head for over a decade now, and you don't even know why it's _now_ that you're saying it.

Josh is sitting next to you, and he has to pause what was playing on the TV so he can laugh. _"Okay._ Is that it?" The corners of his eyes are crinkling and you're positive that you look as if you just discovered the meaning of life, and, really, you kind of _have._

"I mean-- _I guess?"_ You stare down at your hands. You don't even know what to think, and you seriously don't know why it's _now_ you're realizing it. "I don't like girls. I've never liked a girl. Every time I've been in love, it's always been with a guy, and sitting here looking at Chris Pratt," you gesture towards the TV, "I think I'm, like, ready to admit that."

Admittedly, you've only been in love twice in your life, or once, since at twenty five you refuse to admit that you're head over dick for Josh. (The first time you'd been in love was with Leonardo Dicaprio in Titanic when you were seven.)

☾☉☽

You've been out to Josh for a grand total of one month the first time the two of you kiss. It's nothing too romantic--the two of you are standing outside in the middle of the night smoking cigarettes together when it happens. You doubt yourself a lot, and you say, "How do I even know if I'm gay? I've never even kissed a guy before."

"I mean, I knew I was gay when I was, like, thirteen, and I didn't kiss anyone until I was nineteen." He shrugs, and flicks ashes into the ash dray that's sitting on the railing of the stairs. "I can kiss you, if you want. Like... if it'd help get rid of any doubts you have, it wouldn't be a big deal."

You think about it, and every logical part of your brain (said parts are few and far in between) tells you not to take him up on the offer, but... "Do it," is what you tell him.

Your body tenses up as soon as one of his hands is on the back of your head. Like this, it's obvious to you that he stands a good four inches taller than you do. You purse your lips like a dumbass, and Josh pecks you on the cheek, saying, "Tyler, stop being all tense, and quit doing that with your lips. You've kissed people before--you _know_ that's not how you kiss."

"I haven't ever kissed a boy before," You respond, quiet and weak.

"It's not that much different, dude. It's just a kiss."

You sigh, and force yourself to relax. When he kisses you... You swear it's magic. You've kissed _plenty_ of girls, but _never_ has it felt like this. You're greedy, and you realize this when he pulls away, because you pull him back for more. He laughs a little bit, and you smile into the second kiss. Your heart is in your throat right now but that's fine. Kissing Josh is amazing and you never want it to stop.

☾☉☽

It's been a week since Josh kissed you when you decide that you're embarrassing yourself. You already have hardly any boundaries with him in the first place, so when he kisses you that one time, you can't stop yourself from kissing him more every time you get the chance.

It's not like he stops you either, though. In fact, he does the opposite. He _encourages_ it. You have your lips on his when you decide you're embarrassing yourself, and you pull away because you're about to say something about it, but he's chasing your lips, saying, "C'mon, Ty, you can do better than that," and with how his hands feel on your waist, you really can't find it in yourself to genuinely be embarrassed.

☾☉☽

Sex has always been weird for you. You _like_ sex, and having sex with girls isn't particularly bad--you get off, and you haven't had any complaints from any of the girls you've been with, but something never felt right. It always felt like things were off, kind of like a crooked painting on a wall, or when someone fucks up the ratio of white to blue in their paint and winds up with half of a sky that's more of a cerulean than a periwinkle. It's kind of like trying to fit the edge piece of a puzzle into the middle. It's never felt _right._

The first time you have sex that doesn't feel _weird_ or _off_ happens on your twenty sixth birthday, which doubles as the six month anniversary of you being clean, so, of course, Josh was bound to get you to celebrate somehow. Josh's definition of celebrating means busting out the mood lights he got as a birthday present a few years ago, putting them on the pink and orange setting, and riding you into his mattress so aggressively that it makes your head spin.

You don't even know how to describe the feeling--it just feels _good._ You love Josh, as much as you don't want to admit it to yourself, and he makes you feel like a _person._ He makes you feel alive and he encourages you every single day to be a better person, not for him or for anyone else, but for yourself.

So, yeah, alright, maybe you fucking _love_ him and maybe that's why having sex with him doesn't feel weird or off or like you're forcing yourself to do it, but rather another form of showing him affection or that you care about him.

☾☉☽

You don't think you ever start officially dating Josh. It just sort of _happens_. You don't even think to ask, "We're dating, right?" until you're, quite literally, balls deep inside of him. (You feel like being twenty six brought a lot of character development for you.)

Josh is cute when he's getting fucked--he's all high pitched noises and reaching up to touch you, but never in your life have you ever seen his face so perfectly ask, _"Are you fucking kidding me?"_

"What? We've never established it."

_"Tyler."_ His voice makes you feel like you're a kid again and like you've just been caught with your hand in the cookie jar after your mom had specifically told you _not_ to steal any cookies. Josh gestures between either of your bodies, and the two of you maintain eye contact, you waiting for an answer, and him waiting for you to realize it, for maybe five seconds before falling into a fit of laughter, because, alright, _duh--_ it's kind of obvious.

It's half an hour later and the two of you are cuddling on the couch together, when he gives you a verbal answer. "Bro, I think we've been dating for, like, at _least_ five years at this point."

You cackle a little bit, and run your fingers through his hair.

For the first time in your life you feel _free,_ and like there's not some invisible presence pressuring you to be something you're not.

☾☉☽

Getting married isn't as big of a discussion as it probably should've been. The two of you are in Vegas on vacation, since, for the first time in a decade, the two of you are able to actually afford one, when you bring the idea up. "We should just get married, man."

Josh puts his cigarette out on the ash tray on his side of the hotel bed, and rolls onto his stomach, with most of his body draped over yours. Really--this isn't even a vacation. The two of you went window shopping the first day there, and since then, most of your time has been spent in the hotel room _fucking,_ because, hey--what the hell else are you supposed to do with an entire week? "Yeah?" He's smiling, and maybe you were half joking when you said it, but it quits being a joke pretty fast.

"Absolutely. I mean, we're in _Vegas._ Everyone gets married in Vegas. Why shouldn't we?"

"I always thought you'd want something big and fancy," He mumbles as he's kissing you.

"I don't need a fancy wedding. As long as I have you, anything's good enough for me." You kiss him back, and you're sure to cop a feel of his ass, which makes him giggle into your mouth.

"You're being serious, right?"

"I'm being sincere."

☾☉☽

You never thought you'd be the type to get married. You always thought you'd get married to some pretty blonde lady, someone sweet and kind, and it's not like Josh _isn't_ sweet and kind, but he's--he's not a meek little housewife like the kind of girl you thought you'd marry. Well, that, and he's a _man._ At eighteen, fresh out of high school, when you pictured yourself getting married, Josh is quite possibly the exact opposite of who you thought you'd end up with.

And _how_ you got married isn't what you'd thought it'd be either. Sometimes when you were drunk as a young adult, before you got into coke, of course, you'd indulge yourself and you'd fantasize about getting married. You always thought something would turn around, and that you'd get a lot of money and give whatever girl you decided to spend the rest of your life with the fairy tale wedding of her dreams, maybe in France, or Hawaii or Cabo or somewhere scenic like one of those places.

You _didn't_ think you'd be twenty nine and in a secondhand suit in a chapel in fucking _Las Vegas,_ looking at Josh with so much love in your heart for him that you started crying before he even _started_ saying his vows to you. He kisses before the priest can even finish telling him that he could, and you're still crying, probably getting snot in his mouth, but it's okay. You're so insanely in love with this man, and you're happier now than you've ever been in your entire life.

☾☉☽

Your honeymoon isn't ideal. It's not bad by any means--it's _perfect,_ but when someone thinks of a honeymoon, your honeymoon with Josh isn't it. Your honeymoon is the night of the wedding, and it's spent with your face pressed into the mattress in a shitty motel, getting fucked within an inch of your life.

Josh keeps reaching down to rub his thumb over the wedding band on your left ring finger, and you feel like it's pathetic, but you _whine_ every time you catch a glimpse of the wedding band on _his_ left ring finger. He's _yours,_ now and for-fucking-ever, and you really don't think you could ever be happier.

All in all, twenty nine is a good year for you.

☾☉☽

Your parents have a less than desirable reaction to you being gay.

You're out to Josh (obviously), Josh's family, given you're sort of married to him, your youngest brother, your sister, and a few of your friends. Your parents are violently homophobic, and no matter how hard you wish for it, their love for you doesn't over power how much they value their religious beliefs. Which fucking sucks.

You're thirty and somehow your parents still make you feel like a fucking child.

You really regret giving your mom your address, because she shows up, with your dad in tow, carrying a casserole, and when you answer the door, she gently says, "Surprise! I have a housewarming gift!" (Sure, buying a house, especially in this economy, is an accomplishment, but a guy could use a little warning.)

She can't see your left hand, and it takes everything in you _not_ to slide your ring off behind your back as you're stepping aside to let her and your father in. Josh is showering since he has work in a few hours, so he's not there to welcome them inside with you. (Really--you think this is for the best, even if he does wind up outing you, like, ten minutes later anyways.)

You're listening to your mom talk while you're taking a fork and poking at the casserole, trying to see what it is, when you hear her fucking _squeal._ She waves towards your hand, almost frantically, and asks, _"Are you engaged?!"_

"Um. Something like that," You answer, voice a few octaves higher than it usually is. You fidget with your ring a little bit as you hold your hand at your side, not wanting her to see it.

She looks like she's about to ask something else, but then the three of you hear Josh's lead footsteps coming down the hall, and his voice raising to say, "Hey, _honey?_ Have you seen my fuckin', uh, clippers? Jean's been on my ass to shave the beard for a month now."

Part of you wants to smile stupidly at the fact that he called you _honey_ out of reflex, but the rest of you is frozen, in both shock and fear, especially as he's poking his head into the kitchen. His eyes widen, and he just says, _"Oh._ Fuck. Um. Shit."

Needless to say, your parents both yell at either of you, Mom tries smacking you across the face, and Josh winds up on the phone with a 911 operator after your dad decides to deck you in the jaw.

☾☉☽

Sometimes you have nightmares about losing Josh, and sometimes you have dreams of running away from him. In the dreams where you run from him, you're always sixteen, and you always second guess yourself. You don't go up to him that day. Instead, you turn right back out of that choir room, and you go on about your day, acting like you never saw him in there.

You'll graduate high school, and you'll get into college on that basketball scholarship that your counselor promised you. You'll meet a pretty girl and you'll have a few kids before the housekeeper at a hotel finds you dead from a suspected overdose the night before the biggest game of your career in your mid thirties. The public will mourn you for a few months but after that you'll fade into obscurity, and in those dreams, that seems like the fucking _life._

But then you wake up. You wake up and you're thirty two again, and Josh has his head resting on your chest, and he's snoring slightly, even drooling a little bit. If he were anyone else, you'd wake him up and tell him to quit getting his spit on you, but, needless to say, there's been worse things on your body that have come out of him, and he's _cute._

You like waking up to see him drooling on you. Seeing him like this, so sleepy and trusting and _warm_ makes you glad that you didn't live the life that you'd dreamed of that night. You don't think you could live life without being in love with this beautiful creature, even if you're living in a shitty two bedroom house in a shitty neighborhood in suburban Ohio.


End file.
